This is a tale involving a time I officially asked somebody out. Most of the information will be background information between the person in question and myself. Again, for protective reasons, no names will be named in this story.

We first met in our senior year in high school. I didn’t really think much of her. Sometimes we talked. Hell, we only had one class together that year: English. We sat on different sides of the classroom. That year, the class was almost all segregated. I sat on the almost all-black side of the classroom and she sat on the all-Latin side of the classroom.

I looked her up and down that year and noticed some things. She was busty, had a relatively attractive face, with pouty lips. Yet, we didn’t interact that much in high school unless we were talking on Facebook. She was the prom queen. I ran for prom king, I really didn’t try that hard (Why? I just wanted to say I ran for prom king). We graduated together with honors. We were cool. I thought I had other female friends that I knew better than her at that point. That is where we went our separate ways. I went to college in town. She didn’t.

A few years later, I was on campus on break in between classes when I saw a familiar pretty face. It was her. Now, I had every intention of catching up on my work while I was there, but we ended up catching up and making fun of people next to us. She was wearing a hoodie of our high school girls soccer team (of which she was on) and warmups. Yet, I got more attracted to her somehow. I found myself looking at her face more. I found myself asking myself: Why am I doing this? Why do I think she’s ... hotter now? It’s only been a few years.

The studying quickly went to YouTube-ing. Right before I left her, looking back at it, I probably never should’ve asked her this, but I asked her to lick her lips. I had an urge to do it.

“Why?” she said.

“Just once, lick them.”

I was lying.

She did it quickly the first time, hesitantly. I got erect just looking at her do it.

“Slowly...” I said, looking in her eyes.

She let out a light laugh and licked them slowly.

“You have not changed.”

I smiled and simply said before leaving for my next class:

“Nope.”

Two days after Christmas, I got this feeling all of a sudden. I felt bold. I felt ballsy. I had never been kissed on New Year’s Eve before. When I got up, I hurried up and messaged her on Twitter while the feeling was still warm within my body. I typed the message, hesitated, and pressed send. I quickly put my phone down. I didn’t look at my phone for hours.

That afternoon, I got that long-awaited (and dreaded) return message saying that she’s going to be out of town with her girls but she can make time before then. It was disappointing. It wasn’t that bad, because I was used to it. December 30th came. She messaged me, saying: “I’m on my way ... with a little new year surprise for you.” Attached was a picture of her lips, red, glossed and ready. I was nervous and yet excited. Before long, she arrived in a pre-owned car that was very attractive from my point of view.

“Damn, girl, nice whip,” I said, jokingly.

“Thank you very much.”

“Where we going to?” I said, looking around.

She had a focused look on her face.

“Here.”

We stopped at a 24-hour car wash not far from my house. I tilted my head at her.

“A car wash? Really?”

“We’re not going to get caught! It’s dark!” She said. “Now do you want this or not?”

“Oh, I want it. But you couldn’t think of anything more ... creative? I mean, damn.”